"Good Lord!"
"Yeah. I tried to reason with her. I told her that Barbara couldn't leave. I gave her both barrels, Dad; I said there wasn't a chance that you would ever force Barbara to leave. But as for making her leave now, or even letting her, you would no more do it than you would have driven Karen out. I told her that I wouldn't, either, and that Joe and I would fight you to stop it, stipulating that you were crazy enough to try. Which you aren't, of course."
"Thank you."
"That did it. She believes me when I lay it on the line. So she decided to leave. I can't stall her any longer. She's leaving. I'm going with her, to take care of her."
His father rubbed his temples. "I guess there is no situation so bad but what it can get worse. Duke, even with you, she hasn't 'anywhere to go."
"Not quite, Dad."
"Eh?"
"I can swing it, with your help. Do you remember that cave up Collins Canyon, the one they tried to make a tourist attraction? It's still there. Or its twin, I mean. I was hunting up that way that first week. The canyon looked so familiar that I climbed up and looked for the cave. Found it. And Dad, it's habitable and defensible."
"The door? The mouth?"
"No problem. If you can spare that steel plate that blocked off the tunnel."
"Certainly."
"The cave has a vent, higher up. No smoke problem. It has a spring that hasn't failed all this dry weather. Dad, it's as comfortable as the shelter; all it needs is outfitting."
"I capitulate. You can take almost anything now. Beds, of course. Utensils. Your pick of the canned goods. Matches, ammunition, guns. Make a list, I'll help you move."
Duke colored under his tan. "Dad, a few things are up there already."
"So? Did you think I would be pinchpenny?"
"Uh... I don't mean the past few days. I moved some things up the first days we were here. You see... well, you and I had that row-and then you made me rationing officer. That gave me the idea, and for a week or more I always left here loaded, leaving when no one was watching."
"Stealing."
"I didn't figure it so. I never took as much 'as one-sixth of anything... and just stuff I would have to have in a pinch. Matches. Ammo. That rifle you couldn't find. One blanket. A knife. A little food. Some candles. You see... well, look at it from my side. There was always the chance that I would get you sore and either have to fight-one of us killed is the way you put it-or run and not be able to stop for anything. I decided not to fight. So I made preparations. But I didn't steal it; you said I could have it. Say the word and I'll fetch it all back."
Hugh Farnham peeled a callus, then looked up. "One man's stealing is another man's survival, I suppose. Just one thing- Duke, in that food you took: Were there any cans of milk?"
"Not one. Dad, don't you think, if there had been, I would have beaten all records getting up there and back when Karen died?"
"Yes. I'm sorry I asked."
"I was sorry I hadn't snitched a few cans; then they wouldn't have been used up."
"The baby didn't last out the milk we had, Duke. All right, it calls for quick surgery-but don't forget that you can come back, any time. Duke, women sometimes get unreasonable at about your mother's age... then get over it and are nice old ladies. Maybe we'll have the family together again. I hope we'll see you occasionally. You're~ welcome to all the vegetables you can eat, of course."
"I was going to mention that. I can't farm up there. Suppose I still hunt for all of us....nd when I bring in a load of meat I take away a load of green stuff?"
His father smiled. "We have reinstituted commerce. And we can supply you with pottery and there's no need to do your own tanning. Duke, I suggest you sort out what you want, and tomorrow you and I and Joe will start packing it to your cave. Be lavish. Just one thing-"
"What?"
"The books are mine! Anything you want to look up, you'll have to come here. This is not a circulating library."
"Fair enough."
"I mean it. You can have my razor, you can have my best knife. But snitch one book and I'll skin you alive and bind that book in human skin. There are limits. All right, I'll tell Joe, and get Barbara out of the house and we'll stay away until dark. Good luck, and tell Grace no hard feelings. There are, but tell her that. But I'm not too groused. It takes two to create a heaven... but hell can be accomplished by one. I can't say that I've been happy lately and Grace may be smarter than we think."
"That's a polite way of telling us to go to hell, Dad."
"Possibly."
"Whatever you mean, the same to you. It was no accident that I moved away from home as soon as I could."
"Touché! Well, get on with it." His father turned and walked away.
Joe made no comment. He simply said that he had better get on with the irrigating. Barbara said nothing until they were alone.
Hugh took a picnic lunch-chunks of corn pone, some strings of jerky, two tomatoes, plus a canteen of water. He fetched a rifle and a blanket. They went up the hill above the grave and picked the shade of a detached tree. Hugh noticed fresh flowers on the grave and wondered if Barbara had been trudging up there. The climb was difficult for her; they had taken it very slowly. Or had Grace been doing it? It seemed still less likely. Then he thought of the obvious: Joe.
Once Barbara had her heavy body comfortable, on her back with knees up, Hugh said, "Well?"
She was silent a long time. "Hugh, I'm dreadfully sorry. It's my fault. Isn't it?"
"Your fault? Because a woman sick in her mind fixes on you to hate? You told me once not to blame myself for another person's defect. You should take your own advice."
"That wasn't what I meant, Hugh. I mean: losing your son. Grace could not leave if Duke did not. Did he say anything? About me?"
"Nothing but this ridiculous set that Grace has taken. What should he have said?"
"I wonder if I am free to say? In any case I am going to. Hugh, after Karen died, Duke asked me to marry him. I refused. He was hurt. And surprised. You see- You knew about Karen and Joe?"
"Yes."
"I didn't know whether Karen had told you. When she decided to marry Joe, I made up my mind that I would have to marry Duke. Karen took it for granted and I admitted that I intended to. She may have told Duke. In any case, he expected me to say Yes. I said No. And he was hurt. I'm sorry, Hugh. If you want me to, I'll tell him I've changed my mind."
"Hold on! I think you made a mistake. But I won't have you correcting it to please me. What do you want to do? Do you plan to marry Joe, now?"
"Joe? I never planned to marry Joe. Although I would marry him as readily as Duke. Hugh, I want to do what I always want to do. Whatever you want." She turned on her side and faced him. "You know that. If you want me to marry Joe, I will. If you want me to marry Duke, I will. You say it, I'll do it."
"Barbara, Barbara!"
"I mean it, Hugh. Or anything more, or anything less. You're my boss. Not just some, but all. Haven't I done so, all the time we've been together? I play by the book."
"Stop talking nonsense."
"If it's nonsense, it's true nonsense."
"As may be. I want you to marry whom you want to marry."
"That's the one thing I can't do. You are already married."
"Huh?"
"Are you surprised? No, I've surprised you only by saying it-when we've kept silent so long. That's how it is and that's how it's always been. Since I can't marry you, I'll marry whom you say. Or never marry."
"Barbara, will you marry me?"
"What did you say?"
"Will you marry me?"
"Yes."
He leaned over and kissed her. She kissed him back, lips open, full surrender.
Presently he straightened up. "Would you like some corn pone?"
"Not yet."
"I thought we might have some to celebrate. It calls for champagne. But corn pone is what we have."